A Powerful Proposition
by T.R. Hunter
Summary: A proposition is made in the Gnawed Noble Tavern to a visting warrior from Orlais. It is neither what he thinks not what he expects and comes from an unexpected source. Ambrose has been sated, now he will be tempted.


[The Ambrose in this story is indeed Ambrose from Wyldehart's fabulous Tainted Dreams, many years before the setting of that story and used with her kind permission.]

**A Powerful Proposition**

Ambrose had completed his mission. He had met with the young King of Ferelden and was pleased to find him receptive to Orlesian Wardens' help against the Blight. Indeed, the King seemed so enamored of the Grey Wardens that he would have accepted help from the Orlesian order even had Orlais and Ferelden still been at war.

It was time to relax and Ambrose was looking forward to a free evening in Denerim. Not that the capital of Ferelden was anything to look forward too in itself, it would have barely made a village in Orlais and a benighted one at that, but its differences made it exotic, and he had been on the road and then in conferences for what seemed like months. He needed some time to himself to do exactly what he wanted to do. And what he wanted to do was find a beautiful woman and seduce her. He would have preferred a beautiful _sophisticated_ woman, but that was probably asking too much of Denerim.

He strolled down the dirt streets looking for a likely tavern. A sign outside of one, and the boisterous sounds coming from within, made it look a likely hunting spot. The sign showed a man's head in the mouth of a beast and the tavern was called the Gnawed Noble. Well, any tavern keeper who appreciated alliteration couldn't be all bad.

He opened the door and was assaulted by heat and noise and _smells_. Why couldn't the Fereldens learn to wash? Was it really so hard to understand the pleasures, for oneself and others, of cleansing the body? Then he started to think about the smells of women, so often masked by soap and perfume in his own country. What would it be like to have a woman who smelled only of woman? Perhaps tonight would tell. He smiled to himself and made his way into the public room—the slightly quieter and more genteel wing of the tavern.

Ambrose was still dressed in the palace finery that he had worn to impress the King. Well, if it impressed a king, it should work equally well on a pretty wench, non? His doublet was black velvet slashed with deep purple satin. The black sleeves hugged his arms and ended in delicate points, completely embroidered in black thread. It was a subtle and costly ostentation. He wore breeches and high boots, their cuffs raised to cover his knees, and the silver sheath of his sword glittered at his side. Overall a pleasing effect, he fancied.

His face was rugged, not handsome, but compelling. It clearly showed his experience and his desires. There was a wisdom and pain in his eyes that many women found appealing. He had little trouble acquiring bedmates in the fine cities of Orlais and saw no reason that it should be different in Denerim.

As he entered the public room conversation ceased. Some rogues drew back in fear at his appearance, which pleased him greatly. He could already hear the twitters of the ladies as conversation resumed. He strolled the entire room before seating himself at a table with three buxom noblewomen, asking only after he was seated, in his deep rich voice and thick Orlesian accent, "May I?"

The more self possessed of the three waved her fan at him in acquiescence. Already the girl on his left, in a fetching canary gown, was inching closer to him. Ah yes, tonight could be pleasurable, perhaps multiply pleasurable.

Ambrose had an easy way with women that sat them at ease. There was no question on their part what his goal was and strangely they seemed to find this reassuring. They _knew_ that he wanted them in his bed, but sensed that he would only accept them when they were willing. It was that he was so adept at making them willing that gave him his power.

As he talked with his beauties, complimenting them on things that they did not deserve compliments for but such were the ways of seduction, he noticed at the table behind them in a corner a young elf. An armed elf. He had been given to understand, not by the King, but by others, that elves in Ferelden were either Dalish or severely restricted to their "Alienages" or slums. The tattoos on his face declared this elf Dalish, but if so what was he doing here among the humans? This strange presence made Ambrose uncomfortable and it did not help that the elf was staring intently at him.

Ah well, it was of no matter. If the elf caused trouble Ambrose would simply cut him down before he had a chance for more mischief. Such justice was permitted on elves, both here and in Orlais. If they caused trouble in human domains they were dispatched, and no more trouble.

Ambrose happily went back to his flirtations. The woman in lavender was tickling his chin with a feather and the canary frocked wench was blowing in his ear. It did not take long for one of them to suggest that they go somewhere more private. When the second, and then the third, pouted he suggested that they come along.

The encounter had been more than he hoped for. Ferelden women were _athletic_ in a way that Orlesian dames were not. And they were willing to pleasure each other for _his_ pleasure, which he found charming and stimulating. It had been a very good evening indeed. When everyone was satisfied, multiple times (he'd been quite proud of that), they insisted that he return with them to the Gnawed Nobel for a last drink before he departed for Orlais in the morning. He could hardly refuse such a charming request.

They entered the tavern, hanging off of him and each other, and made their way back to the public room. Going to their same table they shooed a merchant couple away and sat proprietarily, placing Ambrose so that they could each touch him, which they did.

Ambrose noticed that the elf was still in the corner. Indeed he seemed to have not moved at all. The same tankard sat before him and he wore the same expression of intense irritation on his face.

The ladies, finishing their drinks and well satisfied with their evening, kissed Ambrose goodbye, individually and severally, and sashayed from the bar. Ambrose decided on another brandy, this time the best the tavern could offer, and sat back to contemplate his conquests. All in all it had been a more than adequate encounter, more than he had hoped for really, and he was sleepy and happy with himself. He let his eyes close is bliss.

When he opened his eyes he was startled to see the elf sitting across from him. The man had made no sound, of that he was sure. Even in the noisy tavern he thought he would have heard the scrap of the bench.

Looking at the intruder angrily and loosening his dagger from it's sheath, Ambrose said, "You have not been invited. Is it the tradition in Ferelden to go where you are not invited?"

The elf shrugged, a most annoying gesture, and said, "You intrigue me. I wanted to talk with you. I think that perhaps you will want to talk with me."

Disgusted, Ambrose shook his head. "You can see that I have had adequate entertainment. I am not interested in your sister, or in any other proposition you may have for me. Now leave me alone."

Looking at him directly, the elf said, "It is not my sister on offer."

Ambrose was simply too tired and too contented to argue. "All right, state your proposition if you must, but Maker please be quick about it."

The elf raised his chin and said, "You like women."

"Evidently," Ambrose snapped back, "but I have told you that I have had sufficient women for tonight. Even if I had the capability for more, I no longer have the desire."

Lowering his lids and looking through his eyelashes, the elf said, "What if I could show you what no women knows, but that you can use to get _any_ woman you desire."

"Non, non, non!" Ambrose said, unsheathing his dagger and laying it on the table. "I am _not_ interested in what I think you are offering. And I seem to do quite well at getting the women I want, as you may have noticed."

The elf shrugged again and sat back, sipping his ale and looking at Ambrose over the top of his mug. If he hadn't been so tired and so content and so sated, Ambrose would have ordered the man to leave or left himself by now, but it just seemed too much trouble… and there was something intriguing about this strange bold elf, even if not in the way the elf hoped.

Ambrose was a student of power in all of its many manifestations, and there was power being manipulated here. For an elf to dare to enter a human tavern, let alone to sit at a table occupied by a warrior without invitation, and to get away with it, was a demonstration of an interesting variety of power. And the confidence that this elf had that he held something that Ambrose would want. What could it be? he mused.

The good brandy and the sherry and lesser brandy before with the women was having a pleasing effect, making him somnolent. He stretched luxuriously and then noticed the elf watching him closely, a smile playing about his lips.

"So what is it you think you have to offer me?" he asked, the sane sober part of him wishing he had not.

"An understanding of the way of power," was the unexpected reply. "Not that you don't wield power well, but you scatter it about, allow it to dissipate. I can show you how to… concentrate it. To use it precisely. It is because of your demonstration of power over those women," he almost spit the word, "that you intrigue me."

Ambrose pushed his chair back, slumping casually in it and letting one long leg hang over the arm, swinging back and forth. "And you think I would be interested in this?" he asked.

"I _know_ you are interested," the elf replied, "the only question is _how_ interested. And what you are willing to… pay… to learn." The elf made a small gesture and a large carafe of brandy was placed on the table. He gracefully refilled Ambrose's glass.

Ah, here it came finally, Ambrose thought, the shakedown. What was the elf really after? What he said was intriguing, but Ambrose knew a seduction when he heard it. The question was, was it a seduction of body or for coin? Ambrose shuddered at the thought of his body being, well, non, it did not bear thinking of. He took a large swallow of brandy to clear the thought from his mind. He was impressed to find that it was of the same excellent quality that he had just ordered, the quality that he had not bothered to squander on the women.

The elf sat silently while Ambrose drank, remembering all that had been done earlier in the evening, a dreamy expression on his face.

After many minutes, a half hour?, more? The elf said to Ambrose, "Are you a brave man?"

Ambrose grunted. Of the many things that he knew about himself, that he was brave was one of which he was quite sure.

"Brave enough to come with me now?" the elf continued, raising an eyebrow. At Amborse's reaction he laughed. "I see your fear, but bravery is courage in the face of fear, no? Would it help if I assured you that I will not touch you nor will anyone else, at least not without your permission?"

Ambrose shook his head to clear it. He was definitely drunk now and knew that he could be stupid when drunk, but his courage had just been challenged, hadn't it? And he was more than a match for any itinerant elf as well as any confederates he might have hidden, even drunk.

Letting out a guffaw, the Orlesian said, "I do not fear you elf. Lead where you will. But I will warn you that if I suspect, if I sense even a hint of danger, I will kill you so quickly that you will have no chance to appeal to your heathen gods. So if you value your head and intend to keep it attached to your shoulders, watch yourself carefully elf."

Nodding, the elf stood up and walked around the table, waiting for Ambrose. "I am Random, by the way," he said, too wise to hold out a hand that would be rejected.

"Ambrose." Ambrose was aggravated to hear that he slurred slightly when saying his own name.

Random gestured Ambrose through the door, then took the lead, going down a narrow hall to the back of the tavern. Ambrose had gathered up his dagger and did not return it to its sheath. It was a large blade and lethal. He could not even remember the lives it had taken, and perhaps another or more tonight. There was a certain satisfaction in the thought.

They walked far down the dim hallway. The inn was larger than Ambrose had thought, then the elf turned into a narrow doorway. The room was small, but meticulously clean. The presence of a bed in the corner made Ambrose uncomfortable, but Random indicated a couple of dilapidated chairs by a worn table. Ambrose sat gingerly, not sure if the old chair would bear his weight. Realizing that it was quite sound he relaxed a bit, but only a bit. He toyed with his dagger as he waited to see what would happen next.

The elf moved to a cabinet and removed a pitcher and beaker, filled the beaker and placed it in front of Ambrose saying, "As you do with women, I got you here by providing brandy, but I think you will enjoy this more if you are sober. This mixture of herbs will reverse the effects of the alcohol."

Ambrose looked up at him with an expression that clearly said, _I did not just appear from under a cabbage leaf. I will not drink some potion you place in front of me_. "Of course," Random said, "there is no reason for you to trust me," and picking up the beaker downed the contents. "I assure you that I am not clever enough to have previously swallowed an antidote. The mixture is quite safe."

Well, that the elf mentioned the possibility of an antidote proved that he _was_ quite clever enough to think of that ruse, but Ambrose had always been a man to embrace a calculated risk. If he woke up naked in an alley he would have a tale to tell. If he didn't wake up it would no longer be his concern. Taking the pitcher, he refilled the beaker and gulped the contents. The liquid was a bit sweet and not unpleasant and already he could feel his head clearing a bit.

Sitting across from him, Random studied the man, letting the potion have time to take effect. He was surprised at himself that he had inveigled the human to his rooms, rooms that he kept at the munificence of the well bribed barkeep since it was forbidden Alienage elves to live in the market district of Denerim.

He rarely invited anyone here least news of his tenure be discovered by the patrol. But there was something compelling about the Orlesian. How he had handled the women for one. He'd been deft, the three hardly aware of what was happening before they had been ushered out to more private pleasures. And his techniques were not the obvious and crude ones seen so often in the tavern. There was a refinement about him, and a power that the elf craved. And despite obvious years of hard living and a well broken nose, the strength of the man and the sadness that showed in his eyes in unguarded moments was beautiful to Random.

And the Orlesian was brave, braver than most men who prefer women, in following Random back to his room. A bravery compelled by curiosity… ah, delicious.

Well Random knew that there was no possibility of seducing the man—it would most likely end with a dagger in his heart should he try—but that was not his purpose. He suspected that even if he succeeded in physically tempting Ambrose, the result would be less than satisfactory. No, this was a woman's man, but that did not preclude play.

Ambrose was becoming quite sober. He blinked and shook his head. A marvelous potion. He wondered how much the elf wanted for the recipe. Looking across the table he said, "Thank you for that at least. Now why did you lure me here? I can assure you that I have no interest in other men and if you should try to either rob me or seduce me I will have no compunction about killing you." As he said this he moved the dagger suggestively.

The elf nodded. So he had courage or was very foolish or both.

"I brought you here because I want you," Random began. Ambrose tightened the grip on his dagger. He knew what those words meant in that tone of voice. He had used them often enough with women. Had the elf not heard what was just said, or did he not believe it? Random continued, "But you don't want me, and in that conflict lies the interest of the game. I have no doubt that this evening will end with my wants denied. You can let go of that knife, your knuckles are turning white. I will not attack you.

"I would like to, however, tell you, words only, what I would do with you were you willing. From this I think that you will gain insights for your encounters with women. I invite you to imagine the things that I will say being done by you to a woman. I think in such a way you will understand and be repaid for your forbearance."

Skeptical, Ambrose asked, "And what do you get from this?"

Random laughed darkly and said, "You here before me to look at while I have my innocent imaginations rather than you out in the tavern while I am here alone. It seems a fair exchange to me."

Ambrose wasn't sure about fair, but it was as odd an exchange as had ever been proposed to him. Still, what did he have to lose? He was always interested in refining his techniques for seduction and perhaps the elf would have a soupçon of knowledge to impart. In any case it would make amusing talk when he was back among the oh so refined Orlesian nobles: how a poor Denerim elf thought that he had something to teach the sophisticated and experienced Ambrose.

Sitting back in the chair across the table Random said, "When you seduce women, as you did tonight, you have one desire as do they. It is the desire for passion which will lead to release. All of your actions, once you are in private, are focused on satisfying this desire. Am I correct?"

Ambrose thought about this for a while, but could find no fault in it. Yes, that was what he desired and what the women desired. It seemed self evident. He nodded and motioned with his head for the elf to continue.

Breathing in deeply, Random continued, "I will show you how you may stack desire upon desire, each desire amplifying the others. These other desires are small compared to the compelling one of reaching climax, but they can… enhance that end.

"If you were willing now, I would reach across this table and stroke your cheek from eye to lip. I am sure that you do such things while seducing women, I saw it tonight, but it is a different act once the seduction is assured. Imagine if you wish that I am speaking as you and that you are with a beautiful woman.

"I would then withdraw my hand for a heartbeat or so, about this long… then I would reach out again and run my hand around the back of your neck and through your hair, allowing it to fall out through my fingers." Ambrose had allowed his eyes to close and had no trouble at all imagining himself doing so with an alluring lass.

"Again, I would withdraw the hand and you would want another touch. I would ever so softly run my finger from the top of your forehead down your nose to your lips and around those lips, but not entering your mouth. In these actions I would have created the desire for my touch. This small hunger would be added to the greater hunger that compelled you here.

"I would then open that very fine doublet and exposure your chest." Here Random paused to savor the image in his mind. From the dark good looks of the man he could imagine the broad chest covered in coarse hair. With a small sigh he continued. "I would not touch you more than necessary to expose the entire expanse of your chest to my eyes, then I would sit back and admire you very much as I am doing now."

Ambrose's eyes flew open and he sat up, reaching for the dagger that had fallen from his hand. Almost without seeming to move the elf grabbed the dagger and flicked it carelessly over his shoulder where it embedded itself deep in a wooden pillar. Ambrose's eyes narrowed and he began to rise so that he could free his sword, but the elf motioned him down. "If I had wanted to harm you I would have flung it in the other direction." Well, there was sense in that. Ambrose sat, but did not relax.

Gracefully rising, Random walked to the pillar and with a sudden strong movement released the blade. As he turned he threw it again, this time in Ambrose's direction. It turned neatly in mid air, burying the tip in the table where it stood quivering upright between the big man's hands.

Casually sitting again, Random said, "That, I will explain in a bit. Now where was I? Oh yes, I was admiring you. Something not difficult to do." Ambrose was amused. Despite his success with the ladies he did not consider himself handsome. Perhaps when he was young, but now his face had seen too much weather and too many battles and his nose veered this way and that from the multiple breaks.

"I would admire you as I am doing now, from a distance, neither touching nor speaking. I would be very specific in my gaze about just what part I was looking at." Random looked into Ambrose's eyes and the warrior shuddered ever so slightly, then he moved his inspection to Ambrose's lips, then the top of his chest and down, slowly. Ambrose was grateful that he was shielded by the table from further scrutiny.

"In such a way I would make you desire my eyes on you. Another small desire.

"Finally I would add the desire for my mouth. I would take you behind the head and kiss you slowly, carefully. Not the kiss that you use when you are intent upon immediate satisfaction of your lust, but a more languid and… considered kiss. I would then allow my mouth to slip from you lips, across your chin and down your neck, where I would lick you, allowing my tongue to explore the hollows of your neck. As before, I would then withdraw before starting again, lower on your chest, taking your nipples into my mouth, sucking and biting."

Despite himself Ambrose could feel a stirring in his codpiece. Quickly he closed his eyes and imagined himself doing what Random described to the breast of a lovely maiden. It made his growing erection easier to accept.

"And so I give you the desire of my mouth," Random continued. "Four desires, one paramount, three minor, but can you feel how those minor desires further enflame the major one?" Oh yes, Ambrose could feel it, to his growing discomfort.

"To finish, I would add to the desires fears, for fear is the handmaiden of desire. You must allow yourself to be honest here. If it helps, put yourself in the position of a weak woman.

"I first engendered fear in you in the tavern by my stares, my appearance and my very presence." He held up his hand as Ambrose stared to protest. "I am not calling you a coward for I know it is not so. I am describing the very essential and sane fear that a brave man, or woman, feels that causes him to be cautious.

"I added a fear by giving you the potion. Then by telling you that I wanted you. Then my little trick with your weapon." He gestured to the dagger still upright in the table. All of these small fears, if you were interested in me, which I realize you are not, would add to your desire. There would now be three desires and four fears accentuating the primary desire and creating of it a thing larger, more… enthralling.

"Thank you. I have enjoyed our time together. I hope that I will have contributed to your future pleasure. I have nothing more for you."

Ambrose looked up in confusion. It had been a strange experience in every way, more like a dream than a reality. And here he sat, fully aroused and angry with himself and with the elf for it. True he had been dreaming of women, but still. And to be dismissed in such a way. It was intolerable. A part of him wanted to get up and take the elf roughly, to show him what it was to be a man, but this was madness. He had never touched another man in that way and did not intend to. That he could even think the thought, picture it, upset him.

Rising swiftly, grabbing his dagger, and turning to hide the state of his codpiece, Ambrose fairly stormed from the room slamming the door behind him. Chuckling softly Random undressed and prepared himself for another lonely night in his narrow bed. Ah, but what dreams he would have for this night's pleasure!


End file.
